


SKIN

by homicidalpotato



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Clubbing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:15:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homicidalpotato/pseuds/homicidalpotato
Summary: self-discovery.





	SKIN

HIS FINGERS ARE WRAPPED AROUND THE SOLID BRASS BEDFRAME. Pulled taut, skin against cold metal, temperature rising - words slip into the humid air, mingling with the steady beat and the flash of the strobe that scatters through tired sheer curtains, cheap fabric. Music blasts, not far away, people dance, men that feel and smell and taste like women grind their heels into the floor and they _dance_. His breath seeps from between his teeth, a thin line of hot vapor clinging to his lower lip and his brain is on fucking overload, but at the same time it feels empty and bare. Thor - he doesn’t know his real name - is pulling on a thread in the blanket they sit on and a joint sticks to his lip as smoke tendrils slide like a tangible, moving, solid mass from between the joint and the corner of his mouth. Convex, concave. Convex, concave. He says something genius and Dizzee remains in his liquid state but he clings to every word and the girl, his friend, is kissing Thor and Dizzee is watching this happen and his lips are numb because those lips, those very lips - had been on his but a quarter of an hour ago. She’s fiddling with his shirt, her fingers popping through the holes and his joint is now in between his fingers, balanced on the sweaty skin. Skin - skin, she’s touching Thor’s skin and the beat shrinks, quieter and quieter as Dizzee imagines the tenderness of the milky skin and he’s lost in some funky labyrinth trying to figure out what on EARTH he’s fucking going through.

 

 

 

Who the heck is he trying to kid, though? You don’t do something like that, think the things he thinks, without knowing that you felt that pull, but the wrongness, or imposed wrongness, pushes back against what you thought you knew and forces you to question whether or not you knew that you liked the feeling of someone of the same sex’s kiss and he finds himself trapped in this see-saw with no apparent way off because this is so fucking distant, and he’s looking at them both; Thor’s white skin (SKIN! _SKIN_!) grazes against his black skin and he’s got no direction to go but where he can feel inside him is the direction he’s already going - he takes his fingers off the foggy brass bedframe and flips onto his knees and he’s asking to be fucked and he’s risking his whole brand-new friendship on a whim. On a boy looking him in the eye with those big blue eyes that tip down on the outer edge and crinkle in the lid with innocent concern. His girl next to him, with a ruby-red smile and a fire in her eye draws him in and nods to say that it’s all alright, steps off the bed. His teenage brain pulsates as the disco wraps him up and he crawls, on all fours, like a dog to its master, fully ready for the next command; he’s alone on the bed with his new friend and he questions fate for a brief fingernail of a second. Words blur, blur, blur in his head and all he can do is collapse into a big blue kiss as the lights flash and it’s boy on boy and his mind is screaming. The drugs, he thinks, blame it on the drugs - but he knows full well it’s not that at all. His clothes are off, skin on skin and he lifts Thor’s hand to his mouth and takes a long drag on his joint until he’s so full of smoke and his mind is so foggy that he can’t think of anything besides insane, unreal desire. Lust. Passion. Love? No - he scoffs. This is a fuck, a new fuck - he’s like damn Christopher Columbus exploring these uncharted territories. Curiosity is inevitable. He feels skin on his and his skin _skin_ _skin_ _skin_ _FUCK_ he’s suffering under his skin so much that he forgets to breathe and the wide-eyed blond is looking at him with his lip caught in his teeth and he guides his mouth to his neck and Dizzee kisses the skin, tender and milky-pink until it turns red and swollen and underneath his lips his body writhes, slippery and bare and soft. Like a perfect machine, he pushes his shoulders up and back, the negative space between them cold. Dizzee’s eyes are glassy and he winces and he doesn’t mean to speak but he’s saying please, please fuck me, i can’t wait any longer; his breaths are erratic and his penis is pressed against Thor’s stomach and he moves around a little until he finds the perfect combination and Dizzee’s so damn tight and he’s wincing and searching for Thor’s lips but he denies his kiss and rolls him so his head is pressed into the blanket and his ass is in the air and he pushes inside him again and Dizzee’s not about being the submissive one but he finds himself wanting to do whatever the hell it takes to please him-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _fuck_.


End file.
